


Unseen

by ObsessiveDebauchery



Category: Dark Knight Rises (2012)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-19
Updated: 2013-01-18
Packaged: 2017-11-21 13:24:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/598250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ObsessiveDebauchery/pseuds/ObsessiveDebauchery
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bane returns from a successful raid on the stock market only to find that his second in command is uncomfortable in their current accommodations.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I enjoyed writing out this little scene that had plenty of time to happen (obviously in my twisted little reality) between scenes that I hope are easily identified from the movie.
> 
> This is my first story upload here on A03 and readers' feedback is greatly appreciated to help me improve.
> 
> Thank you!

_“Eight years, and he has to pick tonight.”_

 

_“He's drawing the cops off Bane.”_

 

Barsad, in one of the offices provided them in Daggett's building, the immeasurable luxury surrounding them making him feel utterly sick, stood looking over a light table with the city's tunnel plans opened before him, a radio crackling beside his hand where he resisted the urge to drum his fingers. Finally, someone spoke to him after back-and-forth communications between distinct channels, and he raised the device to his mouth, listening to the information provided before relaying new instructions.

 

The men about the office said nothing to him but spoke quietly amongst themselves as they all continued to wait. There was a slim television screen mounted on the wall beside the doorway, something that Barsad imagined was considered 'modest' by Daggett's standards, that they'd set to the news when one changing the channels had spotted the motorcycles. The sound was muted as no one needed to be narrated what they'd help put in motion. No doubt their 'employer' had his eye on the same program and was worrying.

 

Nonetheless, Barsad had no time to care as he heard an increased commotion outside. Well, there wasn't much more noise than there already hadn't been a few seconds prior but he set down the radio and lifted his gaze from the blueprints lain out, his trigger finger almost eager for some fun, to the door as he picked up a few murmurs of conversation outside and approaching footsteps which he recognized all to well.

 

The doors swung open, a man on either one, and Bane walked inside, pulling off his red helmet and dropped it onto a chair. Barsad allowed the slightest smirk to tug at the corners of his lips as he met his gaze for an instant before Bane's attention went to the messenger jacket he pulled off and tossed over the helmet. “Any developments in my absence?” he asked Barasd, walking up to the window that made up most of the wall and looked out over the expanse of Gotham as he picked up his coat from one of the leather sofas set before the television and pulled it on.

 

“Just your fifteen minutes of fame,” the mercenary replied, the hint of a tease in his voice as he knew Bane would notice the television rerunning the chase footage. He didn't mention what he'd just coordinated with the construction crews only because Bane's idea of 'developments' wasn't a running list of glowing accomplishments. Quite the opposite. Through his mechanized breathing he let out the slightest of sounds in acknowledgement, and possibly amusement, while Barsad looked to the others still lingering by the doors. It was evident that no one else was coming to join them.

 

“Our men are captured,” Bane confirmed. “But remember: every sacrifice is but an ember added to the flame. Given time it will rise to consume this... metropolis.”

 

Again, a feeling of repulsion washed over Barsad as he and the men looked to the doors, listening; unmarred shoes stepping on the polished floors with delicate taps gave away their visitor long before they saw him. Barsad's expression remained a blank stare as Stryver excused himself and nervously, though he tried hard to mask it as respect, stopped under the doorway. “We saw the news,” he started, but wisely shut his mouth when Bane merely shook his head and turned his head to face him.

 

“All proceeds according to plan. No matter how extensive your preparations, there are bound to be interruptions... and _intrusions_ ,” he added thoughtfully as camera footage of the batman came across the television screen again. “Consider yourselves fortunate in your victory. Today.” The finality in the sentence sent Stryver away with a curt nod and quickened steps back through the halls.

 

Bane's mask hissed out what must have been a sigh and Barsad heard him shuffle, turning fully to face the room, as he himself rounded back to the light desk and pulled another large sheet out from the cluster against the wall and heard Bane order simply, “Leave us.”

 

The room cleared out quite quickly.

 

“How is Gotham looking this evening?” Barsad asked, relaxing his stance and setting his rifle on the ground to lean against the desk. He heard the heavy combat boots nearing him but focused his eyes on the illuminated layouts.

 

Bane thought for a moment as he came to a stop beside him and looked down at the plans as well. “Prolonging its end. They burrow deeper into their hell as he stands in the light, reaching in to pull them out,” he said, sounding almost amused at the stupidity of these people; those who have everything but will never know it.

 

“Back to the sewers tomorrow?” Barsad asked, looking up at him with a tired but hopeful expression.

 

Bane chuckled and turned to sit in the nearest chair, his back straight and his hands open to indicate the room they were in. “Is it so terrible, to have to spend time in luxury?”

 

Barsad could see the amused smile in his eyes as he joked and but he couldn't bring himself to share in it as he looked around them with loathing. “This,” he said softly, looking at the room from the door to the back wall and then back to Bane, “is not luxury.”

 

Bane lowered his hands to his knees and looked at him, his agreement silent but heard as the sniper sat back against the light desk and folded his arms, looking like he was shielding himself from a chill. “A dog can grow accustomed to comfort if it were offered,” Bane pointed out and it made Barsad smirk. “But I am a rat, and I know comfort only in squalor.”

 

They both stopped suddenly, Barsad's smile gone as if it were never there, and looked to the door.

 

Something was happening.

 

Stryver's voice was complaining about something, a pathetic moan of pain reaching their ears and Barsad could see by Bane's narrowed eyes how much it was irritating him. There followed a quick knock on the door. “The burglar,” one of the men informed them loudly without opening it. “She's taken Daggett,” another added amidst Stryver's continuous moaning and childish whining.

 

“Remain here,” Bane sighed, “I must scare off a cat.”

 

He pushed himself up again with a groan that ended hissed out through his mask and looked at Barsad who simply turned back to the blueprints and picked up the radio. “Upon my return, we can take this grandeur that Mr. Daggett has so graciously given to us,” he announced as he walked, his voice echoing melodically off the walls, making Barsad look at him curiously. Bane opened the door and turned his face to the side far enough that he could look at the mercenary as he finished, “and tarnish it enough to help you sleep tonight.”


	2. Chapter 2

Bane watched the insect-like contraption fly away, catching the briefest glimpse of the chivalrous billionaire bat and his feline damsel. He wondered, not for the first time, if he should get Barsad bigger toys to play with; rocket launchers worked wonders on such annoyances. But he knew that his protègè wanted the hero alive, so planned to lure in the spandex woman for their benefit. Loyalties for hire were always easy to keep in check with the promise of a gun to their skull.

 

“That stupid bitch,” Daggett muttered from his side, fists clenched at his side.

 

He turned to address the men stripping the two dead bodies of their weapons while checking on those injured during the fight. “How the hell did she get all the way to my safe?” he demanded, sounding like a spoiled infant. Bane ignored him and made his way back towards the door, leaving instructions to destroy the cadavers and tend to the injured, but stopped when he was called out to. He turned slowly, beginning to grow irritated with Daggett's summoned to him like a dog. Especially when he'd already left an eagerly waiting backside to mount in order to save him.

 

The smaller affluent man walked past him, smugly straightening his shoulders, and back inside as the lesser servants and workers were already cleaning up the mess caused by the break-in. Stryver was on the phone with a flute of champagne in his other hand and Bane was happy to see him trying to walk off an injury in his leg.

 

“Well, now it's time to count down to victory. Join us?” Daggett offered, picking up an extra glass from the silver tray in the outstretched hand of one of his suited help and holding it out to him. Before Bane could decline the offer one of his men hurried to his side and handed over his cell phone. Knowing who it was he simply held the device against the part of his mask that covered his ear, to better hear, and walked away.

 

“Business as usual,” Daggett sympathized as if he'd ever done anything remotely purposeful in his life.

 

Barsad had enough time to find the spare bedroom that Daggett had offered them, put his gun down and walk to the bathroom for a shower before one of the mercenaries knocked on the door quickly and poked his head inside, spotting him and taking a step further inside to face him. The sniper could sense that he was delivering a message and picked up his gun again to follow him out.

 

“Bane's already gone ahead. She's asking for you too,” spoke the taller black man in a quick whisper.

 

Holding out his hand Barsad took the keys quickly handed to him and headed towards the elevator. Riding to the basement he found his comrades wrapping and piling two dead bodies into the back of a small unmarked truck while others sat around, looking quite worse for wear; bandages and glasses of water were handed around.

 

Sparing them a passing glance he climbed into a very beat-up, common looking car and placed his rifle in the back seat along with his bullet-lined vest. Just as he turned on the ignition he saw his earlier messenger in the rear view mirror hurrying towards him with a black duffel in his hand. He drove in reverse, unlocking the doors and shifted to drive as the back quickly opened and shut, then he sped off to merge with the night traffic. The radio was reporting the bat man sighting but he simply turned it down rather than off.

 

He focused on obeying the speed limit so as no to draw attention to himself when he wanted to fly across the city rather than keep them waiting. Fighting back a yawn and blinking hard a few times to fight back sleep he rummaged in the glove compartment for something to eat. There were food wrappers and empty cups strewn about the floor and he found a small candy to place in his mouth, working it slowly on his tongue to keep himself awake through the motion. The traffic light he neared turned yellow and he held the car steady with his knees on the steering wheel as he quickly loosed his red scarf and opened his jacket. He knew that if anyone looked at him the dishevelled appearance would make him look common and easily forgotten.

 

The drive took him nearly thirty minutes out of the busy centre that was Gotham and surrounded him with its lesser-visited open land, privately owned acres divided by fences or lines of trees with luxurious dwellings at their heart. He knew of this location but had never actually been to it, doubting he ever would again.

 

Inside, Bane crouched in front of the hearth and added a few dry logs to the fire he was starting, its growing flames increasing the glow from the few lamps around them. He heard a car pull up to the house and drive around to the back, its engine turned off and then the rustle of fabric and quickened steps before the door opened and shut, Barsad appearing in the doorway. “Sorry I took so long,” he said as he put down his bag and rifle.

 

“Hmm. You look tired,” noted a soft voice from a corner.

 

Bane dusted his hands off and watched the mercenary straighten and turn, his eyes indeed tired, to look at her. But even with the redness of exhaustion in them his devotion was clear, and a smile tugged at his lips as he remarked, “How very observant of you, Miss Tate.”


	3. Chapter 3

“Go and shower. Then join us,” she said, setting down the steaming mug she'd been holding in her hands while Bane began to pull off his shirt.

 

The house was small but obviously costly; there was a spacious kitchen down the small hallway he walked across to find winding stairs, climbing them to the second story where he walked past two very comfortable looking bedrooms towards the bathroom at the end of the hall. He stripped and stepped into the old fashioned tub set in the middle of the tiled room, scrubbing himself clean with a wash cloth and taking a few extra minutes to harshly rub shampoo into and then out of his oily hair.

 

The towel he dried off with was like a a cloud. After he bunched it up and tossed it into the laundry basket just outside the door he gathered his clothes and proceeded back down the stairs. He didn't hear anything from either of them back in the room and so tiptoed to his duffel, watching his bare feet, and traded the dirty laundry in his hands for the clean change he kept inside and began to pull them on.

 

“Don't overdress. The flames are very warm,” Talia spoke quietly.

  
When he looked up he noticed that she was spooning against Bane's much larger form which cast a shadow that covered her very much like a blanket. He pulled on his pants, leaving the shirt folded by the duffel with his boots and stood, waiting.

 

His action seemed to draw her curiosity, or at least he hoped it was that and not annoyance, as she looked over her shoulder and blinked. “Would you like me to move?” she asked him sarcastically and he swallowed, dropping down to one knee and then slowly sitting cross legged, like a cautious dog that didn't want to be punished for doing the wrong thing. She watched him and then smiled slightly, lying back down against Bane and rolling her shoulders a bit. “Come, keep my back warm,” she ordered.

 

He moved to obey as respectfully as could, curling against her the way she was curled against Bane but unlike her arms, which were around her protector's waist, he lay his head against one bent arm and kept the other hugged around his belly.

 

“What do you think he's doing now?” she asked Bane.

  
“Trying to catch up,” came the answer, almost pitying.

 

It earned them a soft chuckle from Talia. “No doubt he'll turn to Mr. Fox for help,” she pointed out. “It will be too late,” he assured her. The three lay in silence while Talia traced her fingers over Bane's back and shoulders, occasionally trailing her nails gently up and down his arm. “You will be my victor, yes?” she asked softly, and Bane didn't bother answering. “And I will give him hope,” she whispered, sounding like a snake whose hiss went unheard as it slithered towards its prey.

 

Bane shifted slightly at that and she kissed him between his shoulder blades. “I will be one more soul to fight for, one more to hold dear to his heart. And that will remain so even when you take him away,” she assured him, following the scar along his spine to trace the edges of his mask.

 

“And what of Miss Kyle?” Bane asked.

 

Barsad let the ghost of a smirk spread across his lips.

 

“She helps him?” Talia asked, a bit surprised, but settled back with a knowing nod when Bane shook his head and Barsad stated they doubted she even knew the bat man's true identity. “Then she will help us,” Talia decided.

 

“Barsad will persuade her,” Bane informed her and the sniper breathed out a laugh.

 

“Yes, with that serpent tongue of yours,” Talia teased, leaning her head back to touch his forehead. He leaned forward and nuzzled her hair gently.

 

Something emitted a beep near their heads and Barsad looked up to see a laptop on the carpeted floor that he hadn't noticed when he first walked in. It was being charged, the cable winding away from them to plug into the wall somewhere beyond. Talia shifted, most likely to use it, and he sat up, bringing it to her as she lay on her stomach, her legs bent and swaying a bit behind her. She was eager about something, he could tell. She acted like a child in a playground when she manipulated lives and circumstances.

 

“It would seem Lucius has been given some homework,” she mused, typing and clicking as the screen changed a few times before her eyes. Then she allowed a cold and empty smile tug at the corners of her lips. “But you're too late, old fox,” she whispered tauntingly as suddenly notices popped up all over the screen, her cell phone vibrated somewhere in the room and e-mail notifications blinked for attention.

 

“Shall I go and-

 

“No,” she said, not bothering to look at Barsad as one of her feet reached out to gently prod at Bane with her toes. He let out a slight sound that he was awake and Barsad felt that he was seated beside a resting tiger when his mask made his voice sound like a purr.

 

“I'm told you had plans to thrash around Daggett's estate tonight,” she said, casting a mischievous look over her shoulder at him.

 

She typed away on the laptop and continued to nudge at Bane until he reached down to undo his trousers. When she heard the shuffling of fabric she hooked her feet together once more, looking like a girl playing a game on her machine.

  
Barsad knelt up to undo his own pants and pull them off but had only gotten them open when he noticed the larger man kneel too, to indicate that he lay where he had. So he did, flopping down on his belly and resting his head on his hands to watch the fire.

  
He felt Bane straddle his legs and tug his pants down enough to reveal his ass. His large hands, one wrapped in its usual brace extending almost to his elbow, grabbed his buttocks and pushed so Barsad complied and raised himself on his knees like an offering until Bane's hands left him in the position he wanted.

 

“I cannot enjoy taking him dry,” he stated.

  
The mercenary remembered the first time they'd tried it and recalled trying to fight back sounds of discomfort, willing to go through it for Bane. But he hadn't had to lie for more than a few moments. His leader was not comfortable at all and looked for lubrication to work into him and onto his own member quickly enough.

 

“Use the bottle in my purse,” he heard Talia say to him.

 

Bane's presence moved away, there was a zipper sound and rummaging, and then he was back on him. Barsad breathed deeply and allowed himself to be prepared to Bane's liking, relishing in being used as they liked. It was a luxury, he knew. His devotion and loyalty had won him Bane's favour, while Talia acknowledged him as more than a disposable soldier because she saw that Bane enjoyed him once in a while, trusted him in all missions.

 

But even at that moment he knew she carried her father's dagger on her person; if her protector wasn't satisfied or if she ever suspected Barsad was any kind of threat towards the larger warrior she'd most likely slit his throat open in one swift movement without a second thought.

 

And he'd close his eyes and wait to bleed out.

 

Talia typed, occasionally looking at them with little interest but the mercenary didn't take it personally. The League had grown to learn that she felt nothing towards men, not sympathy, not remorse. The only one to whom she showed any emotion or regard to was Bane. But it only made her all the more deadly. Nothing would sway her to show mercy to a man.

 

When Barsad moaned at feeling Bane slowly work his way inside of him he heard the click of her laptop being shut and knew she'd turned to watch them. He was penetrated and lay with eyes closed to enjoy it, his own erection aching between his legs.

 

“Does he feel as good as he sounds?” Talia asked, and Bane only groaned a bit in response, thrusting deeper and eliciting a louder sound from the mercenary. He hoped he wouldn't have to limp around the rest of the day.

 

He turned his head to look at Talia, his eyes half closed as pleasure ran through his body and his mouth hung open while he panted and cried out while his leader grabbed his hips and picked up the pace. She looked at Bane with a genuine smile, happy to see him enjoy himself, and then caught his gaze.

 

He believed she'd stare him down until he closed his eyes or turned away again but instead, with a rare look of tenderness, reached out and brushed a strand of damp hair from his eyes.

 

He felt then, by that gesture, like a peasant blessed by a god.

 

Closing his eyes again he felt Bane ride him almost possessively until he suddenly stopped with a sigh and came right inside him. They panted and remained still for a moment until Bane pulled out and left him again, returning with what felt like tissues to clean him with. Rolling onto his back he planned to hold himself as he made his way to the bathroom to finish off but instead felt Bane remove his pants, then pull one of his legs around his waist and lift the other onto his shoulder.

 

The braced arm held his raised leg, his fingers squeezing gently as if his nerves were buttons, it felt like, and Barsad watched as he picked up the small unlabelled plastic container and let a few small drops run down his uncomfortably throbbing cock. And when Bane's hand returned to grip him he let an almost inaudible 'thank you' escape his lips in the panting that had become his breathing once more.

 

Barsad's back arched a bit, rocking his body in time with the pressure between his legs; Bane watched his work closely, squeezing and pumping him until his balls finally tightened and he groaned out between clenched teeth, spotting the box of tissues by his side and grabbing one to catch his ejaculation with.

 

“You are considerate,” Bane thanked him, sounding amused, and wiped him clean again. As he did so Barsad looked around then sat up when he was finished, reached for his clothes and began to dress. He noticed then that Talia had left them at some point.

  
Bane didn't seem to mind though as he tossed the dirty Kleenex into the fireplace and lay down, lazily doing up his own pants again. “I'll drive to Old Town,” he informed the larger man as he tucked his scarf into his jacket and buttoned it up. Bane looked up at him, and it seemed like he was going to speak but just then Talia walked into the room, dressed differently than before. Her hair was a cascade of curls that fell down over her coat, it and her scarf trailing nearly to her feet. She looked ready to walk down Wall Street with her skirt and top, expensive shoes and perfect make-up.

 

“Gentlemen,” she said to them, smiling like the ever professional business woman Miranda Tate was known to be, “I have a meeting to attend. Or will, once I agree to attend it.” She gave them both a curt nod and left.

 

“Are you tired?” Bane asked, and Barsad shook his head, reaching down to pick up his duffel bag and rifle. “Then I will see you there.”

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter.  
> It took me a week to write; I had it going and then came my brain's brilliance to deviate from my goal and "try something different".  
> Well I hated every waking minute of it!
> 
> ...but I hope you find something worth reading.
> 
> Sorry for my negativity.

As he walked out to the car again Barsad wondered how Bane had arrived there to begin with. He glanced around the lot but didn't see any other vehicles besides the one driving away in the same direction he'd soon take to return to the heart of Gotham; a tiny retreating form carrying Talia away that left a trail of dust in its wake. Still, there was the small garage...

 

He didn't think the man would truly risk being seen on the motorcycle after the city's stock exchange scare. But then again it wouldn't have been something that the authorities would be looking for. Bruce Wayne was serving as a better cover than they'd originally imagined he would.

 

He opened the back door and placed his duffel bag on the seat, arranging the gun so that it was covered yet easily accessible. As he climbed into the driver's seat and started the engine he considered offering Bane a ride. But surely he would have asked if he needed one, so he simply snapped on his seat belt, forgetting earlier that the city had laws against not wearing them, and pulled out of the driveway. The radio kept him company on the drive back and it, unsurprisingly, continued to spew the same topic it had earlier. When people found something to talk about in Gotham, or rather debate and spin wildly out of control with speculation, communications programs tended to remain the same for days. Curious, he pushed a button to display the time and saw that he'd only been with them for a few hours.

 

The sun was still rising over the horizon and he had to squint a bit to see clearly past the glare it shone against his eyes. The warmth was certainly a nice sensation but it wasn't helping him to stay awake very well. The voices on the radio carried on and on with the same dull drone and he doubted he'd find more discarded snacks lying around so he opted for shifting occasionally in his seat to feel the slight soreness in his rear to keep his senses alert. It was an odd alternative to coffee but he would fix that as soon as he was nearer more populated areas with a shop at practically every corner.

 

He'd lied to Bane about needing rest but Talia had ordered things done and he wouldn't be useful in the least lying in front of a dying fire for a post-coital nap. Indeed the larger man had always been glory in the mercenary's eyes but Talia was Bane's life so he'd live to serve her. It was, he knew, the best he could do for Bane and would be more valued than anything else, such as Barsad taking a bullet for him. Finally, with a sigh of irritation, he stopped his now-and-then shifting in exchange for then windows rolled down. Rushing air and noise sometimes proved helpful when his training had him straining to pick out as much about his surroundings as he could.

 

In the early morning hours that brought Barsad to the growing populace of Gotham there was a steady flow of traffic beginning to crowd the streets, increasing his chances of being caught, but he pressed onwards.

 

At least he didn't need to stop long for what he had to do.

 

A cell phone suddenly vibrated and sang quite an annoying tune from the glove compartment. He manoeuvred it out without stopping and held it to his ear. “Yes.”

 

“Mr. Daggett requests to see Bane immediately,” Stryver's voice informed him over the small device. That he sounded uneasy was a very good sign. “He's waiting,” he urged in a hurried whisper. Barsad hung up and dialled a number to reach someone at the tunnel entrances near Bane's 'office'. Phones changed hands along with guard shifts. He just hoped he didn't get put through to one of the more useless men that came to work for them through Daggett's crews.

 

“Wait for Bane. Send him to Daggett. I suspect the meeting's over,” he instructed when the call was answered.

 

He hung up and set the phone back, his attention suddenly caught by a familiar looking young woman walking down the street. He realized then how tired he was that he didn't register the moment that he drove into the area considered 'Old Town' as he pulled up to drive slowly alongside her. “Excuse me, miss?” he called out, leaning over to look at her through the passenger window. She continued to walk, very obviously ignoring him. “I'm lost, I just need some help. Please?”

 

When she cast a brief glance his way he smiled a bit, stopping when she did too. She seemed confident that nothing could happen to her; early morning, plenty of witnesses. “Yeah, where you going?” she asked, smiling in return. He opened his mouth to answer but was suddenly interrupted when someone walking by linked their arm through the girl's and pulled her along with them.

 

Miss Kyle.

 

The young blonde grinned and spoke to her new companion and Barsad could see, as Selina pulled her along and up to the door of their shabby townhouse, that she was lecturing the girl against her foolishness. Neither looked back at him so he figured he'd get the burglar's attention another way. Parking the car he exited the vehicle, took his duffel bag with him and proceeded to find a way behind the building they'd entered. There were shops running down the whole block, owners and workers almost automatically following their routines with their heads slightly bent and their attention drawn inward. Nobody made eye contact except to spare a suspicious glare. Walking along without pause he soon found an opening.

 

There was a narrow alley running behind the building that was, he quickly checked, deserted. For the moment. Counting the fire exits from where he'd walked into the filthy little avenue, careful not to step on anything too questionable, he stopped at the one leading into their apartment and quickly tried to work out how to get inside, seeing that there was no handle on the door.

 

“You'll find that one a bit tricky to open.”

 

He looked down the way to find Miss Kyle herself approaching him, looking quite annoyed.

 

“Offer me a key then. I can leave you a message faster,” he suggested with a smile, hoping to 'break the ice' as some said. She didn't look very amused with his efforts, stopping a few feet away and folding her arms over her chest. He watched her size him up, head to toe and back again. And judging by the way she met his eyes she was not impressed with what she saw. “Red scarf,” she noted, nodding towards his neck. “I'd know whose messenger you were anywhere. I already had to chase a few of your friends out this morning for trying to sneak up on me.”

 

He turned to face her. “Take a drive with me.” But she simply rolled her eyes and carried on as if he hadn't spoken. “Look tell Daggett-

 

Her assumptions, that she was safe, that she knew whose man he was, were laughable and made him chuckle. “Perhaps you'd hear better if I shot a hole through your ears,” he offered, amused enough to grin a bit. At that she stopped and stared at him. He could see her reassessing how dangerous he was, planning an escape after finding a way to overpower him when she held no weapons but her own skills. He almost admired her efforts but they were wasteful when Bane wanted to have a word with her.

 

“You work for Bane, then,” she concluded.

 

She seemed to be waiting for him to do or say something but he'd always found it redundant to answer statements rather than questions. “You have a meeting with him,” he reminded her, because he knew she was aware that she was a loose end. She swallowed visibly at that.

 

Miss Kyle was at least smart enough to admit that she wasn't indispensable to everyone who saw how she worked. But Barsad would let her figure out how she could help Bane without being asked; people became very creative in the art of survival when there was a gun to their heads. “You can't blame a girl for defending herself,” she said, her words a purr. “You all had big guns and left me no choice but to get away.”

 

He walked towards her and while she didn't back away she did take a step back to steady herself, a stance that prepared her if she wanted to attack him. Barsad watched her with diminishing amusement because she was past pushing her luck at this point and he'd grown tired of being polite.

 

“How about I drag your body to the trunk and take your friend along to meet all of mine?” he suggested, smiling so as not to seem rude.

 

He could tell she was upset by that but she wisely shut up and lowered her head slightly to indicate she'd follow. So he led her to his car and returned his heavy duffel to the back seat, waiting for her to get in before pulling away from the curb, merging with traffic and heading towards the nearest tunnel that connected with the one running directly under Wayne Enterprises.


	5. Chapter 5

Bane stepped around Dagget's body as life left him, twitching and jerking as he bled out from a shattered neck, and proceeded out the door. “Get rid of the body. And prepare for tomorrow,” he told one of his men who'd been walking down the hall towards another stationed outside the office they'd used the previous night. They both marched into the room, their voices carrying out as they spoke of the building's garbage chute and he proceeded to the elevator. He passed by Stryver who trembled a bit but tried to compose himself enough to meet his eyes and nod. Frankly Bane didn't care one way or another about the man. He had to drive all the way back to the tunnel he'd left for this 'meeting'.

 

He took the elevator to the parking garage where he got in the back seat of an unlabelled white van, and nodded at the driver in the rear view mirror, who pulled out of the building and attempted to seem like a civilized motorist. Of course, there were others that forgot to show the same courteous effort and he heard them as they passed, the citizens so consumed with rushing nowhere to do anything of importance with their pathetic lives. It was truly a wonder to Bane that Gotham hadn't collapsed in on itself earlier without their help.

 

When they arrived back at the construction site he instructed to have the van parked behind a large cement structure. He'd heard rumours about an individual in the police department looking into Daggett's work and crews. While it was nothing to be alarmed about, just files and documents being pulled up for inspection, he would have rather not risk anyone coming around and finding excused for asking questions.

 

No one stopped their work to say or do anything as he walked into the tunnel lined with floodlights and equipment, absently massaging his braced hand, slowly flexing the fingers. Walking down a level further into the labyrinth, that had taken hours to memorize, and continuing towards his temporary niche he spotted Barsad and the woman, Selina Kyle, standing in silence, no doubt waiting for his arrival.

 

But clearly neither hard or saw him approaching, which caught his attention in regards to his lieutenant, because she suddenly turned on him and fought her way past the two men standing guard behind her, stunned by her swift action. It was just the moment she needed to get away. He watched as Barsad quickly recovered from the kick she'd sent to his chest to knock him down and took aim to fire, missing her head by a hair as the bullet hit a pillar. She moved quickly despite the commotion that her escape was making, looking around, no doubt expecting more gun fire. She almost didn't see him as she brought herself to a stumbling halt mere inches from colliding with his larger form.

 

He looked at her with interest, wondering where she'd been trained but saw her regarding him only with very familiar fear. Her legs shook a bit as she took a step back from him and jumped, or perhaps just shuddered, when he spoke. “You fight well. Skill like yours could come of good use,” he mused. “But then we already know for whom you fight,” he recalled venomously. “And the bat- She straightened at that and interrupted him. “I don't fight _for_ anyone,” she stated very clearly. “And as for the bat man, well he just saved me from a misunderstanding.” He narrowed his eyes at her, considering her words. But before he could question her further she set her jaw and looked down at his feet, a clear indication of guilt. He had to wonder why, but then she spoke.

 

“I could bring him to you.”

 

“Yes,” he agreed, taking a step forward. “You could.”

 

And of course she shifted a bit and gathered her courage to look back up at him. _Negotiations_ , he thought with amusement. No matter the number of countries he'd visited, some parts of his life and trade just seemed to be unavoidable, as if it were human nature. “Well, I just need- would like,” she quickly clarified, “to be left alone. A girl needs her space, after all.”

 

“I assume you require assurances that the girl,” he surmised, watching worry wash over her features, “is to remain under your protection?”

 

She only looked at him with a plea in her eyes. He respected that she didn't beg.

 

He turned away from her and continued forward, calling out loud enough for all to hear, “Your conditions are acceptable.” She was already running away from him before he'd even made it his cot.

 

Barsad's eyes remained cast downwards in annoyance and embarrassment while the men around him picked themselves up with groans and curses, threatening their now absent female attacker under their breath. The young man raised his gaze to watch him as he ignored their irritability and proceeded to undo his jacket and set it on his chair. Barsad said nothing but the men retreated back to their posts, no doubt after only a look from him.

 

“You have not slept,” Bane stated with annoyance, hunching forward to pull his shirt off his back and down his arms, tossing it onto the bed and then facing him, “in two days.”

 

Barsad frowned a bit, the closest he'd bring himself to argue.

 

“You will sleep now,” he ordered. “Or I will be sure to tire you myself. Properly this time.”

 

He watched as he set his gun against the bed and reach down to unlace his boots. When they were off he removed his vest and jacket, then loosened his scarf. Bane knew that he felt guilty at being caught by surprise.

 

“I will not have you useless tomorrow,” Bane warned him, and waited. Barsad lay down and rested his hands on his stomach, closing his eyes and looking very much like a corpse as he evened out his breathing. With a strained breath he lowered himself to sit on the bed, sitting partially on one of Barsad's legs. He made a small noise of discomfort behind him and tried to pull it back while Bane reached down to unlace his own boots and set them beside the other pair.

 

“Move,” Bane said and grunted as he swung his legs up onto the bed, the frame creaking angrily beneath his added weight. He lay back with a sigh and shifted a bit to settle as comfortably as his broken body would allow. The man beside him had managed to pull his leg free and rolled onto his side but remained against him.

 

“Your feet smell bad,” he noted and changed sides.

 

It amused Bane but he didn't make it known. Besides, he knew Barsad was trying to distract him. Talia would be seeking Bruce out to comfort him, to give him what he'd lost years ago. And he hated to know such a thing.

 

“Sleep,” he ordered again and closed his eyes.

 

Though unseen, he knew Barsad smiled a bit at that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to those of you who put up with this 'til the end. Good news: it's over!  
> I've definitely learned a lot from this. And I hope to get better as I attempt to write out more ideas and post them for some fan dissection.


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